Demons
by upwiththebirds33
Summary: Race and Romeo come back from the Refuge and I suck at summaries. Rated T for Snyder the Spider because he's a horrible person. Prompt from promptsforyourwhumpfic in tumblr—thanks! Credit to Logicality1308 for the splendid title (from Demons by Imagine Dragons). Formerly Spot's List
1. Chapter 1

It was a well-known fact among the newsies that a newsie who stayed at the Refuge for any amount of time would suffer from a myriad of physical and mental issues. So well-known, in fact, that they had a list of said issues and how to solve them. The list had been given to them by Brooklyn newsie Spot Conlon, who was interestingly quite adept at first aid. The list went something like this:

_Basic First Aid for Newsies _

_By Spot Conlon_

_Cuts_

_— Clean thoroughly with hot water and disinfect with alcohol. Make sure no dirt remains in the wound before binding it with clean bandages or fabric. _

__— _Change bandages and clean wounds daily. _

_Severe Bleeding_

__— _Apply pressure with a clean cloth or shirt until bleeding slows, then follow cuts instructions above. _

_Broken Ribs_

__— _Nothing much to do here. Rest for at least two weeks and preferably longer (that means DON'T sell any papes, Jack!). _

_Dizziness and Headaches _

__— _If after a hard blow to the head, rest for at least two days (again, DON'T sell any papes Jack!) and drink a lot of water. _

The list continued for a few pages this way. If the newsies were lucky, the list wouldn't be needed.

However, they knew that they probably would in the next few days.

Romeo and Racetrack had been missing for nearly four weeks now. And there was only one place they could be for this amount of time—the Refuge.

* * *

"Jack?" a voice whispered. "Jack, wake up." Jack Kelly blinked and pushed himself up on his elbows. As his vision cleared, he made out the concerned face of Specs.

"Specs, it's the middle of the night," he groaned. Specs put a finger to his mouth, which Jack grumpily pushed away.

"It's Race and Romeo," he whispered. Jack sat up instantly. "Shh, don't wake up the others, but they're back." Jack swung his legs out of bed and into his boots.

"How bad are they?" Specs's face fell, telling Jack all he needed to know. "Alright. Where are they?"

"Race is in the bathroom, he won't let anyone in. Romeo is in his bed at the moment."

"'Kay. I'll go check on Race first, see if I can get him to come out of the bathroom. Make sure Romeo's alright for now and I'll be comin' to check on him in a sec." He made his way over to the bathroom and knocked on the locked door as quietly as possible. He was met with a quiet 'go away.'

"Race? Race, can I come in?"

"No, please don't!" He sounded like he was having a panic attack, and Jack frowned.

"Race, it's Jack, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can I please come in?"

A muffled no was his only response.

"Race?"

"I's fine! Just… go away."

"Race…" he sighed, stepping away quietly. He made his way over to Romeo's bed and almost gagged when he saw how badly he was beaten up.

"J-Jack?" Romeo asked, then broke into a coughing fit. He gasped, refusing to show any pain. Specs, sitting next to him, gently rubbed a hand on his back, his hand coming away with—blood? _Crap._

"I's right here, Romeo. Yer safe now," Jack said. Romeo took a deep breath. _Has he always been this little?_ "Can I help you with your shirt?" Romeo shook his head.

"I's fine." He wiped a stray tear from his face, wincing at the effort. Jack nodded to Specs to get a first aid kit, and the other boy tiptoed off to find one.

"Romeo." He bowed his head.

"I's sorry, Jack."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, kid." He slowly made his way over to the bed and sat down, pulling off Romeo's vest. He pointedly ignored the blood on his vest and shirt and instead focused on causing as little pain as possible. Specs came running up with a clean shirt, some water, a towel, and a few bandages.

"This's all I could find," he whispered, defeated. "All the supplies're in the bathroom, and…" He trailed off. Jack nodded.

"Thank you," Jack told him.

"'M sorry I's such a burden," Romeo whispered. Jack looked him dead in the eye.

"You's not a burden," he said firmly. "Don't say that." Romeo sighed and nodded. He sat still as Jack unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his undershirt, dropping the clothes on the floor out of Romeo's line of sight. _Oh._

"Sorry," Romeo whispered. All trace of his trademark cockiness was gone as Jack saw just what the Spider had done.

The boy's entire torso was bruised, and Jack was pretty sure that at least one rib was broken. A long cut made its way down his left arm, and another wrapped around his stomach to his back—where there were even more cuts and blood. Jack couldn't even tell where the skin was broken, there was so much blood.

"Kid…" _How is he still alive?_

"'M sorr—"

"Nuh-uh. You don't need to be sorry for anything." He poured some of the water onto the towel and nodded to Specs. The boy sat down on the bed next to Romeo and took one of his hands, placing his other hand on Romeo's shoulder, prepared to hold him down should the need arise.

"You's ready?" Romeo nodded, and Jack began cleaning off the blood. He could tell Romeo was doing his best not to wake up the others, and he was holding Specs's hand so tightly that his knuckles were white. As Jack finished cleaning off the blood, he took in the cuts all across the boy's skin.

"How many times did he beat you?" Jack asked without thinking. Romeo swallowed hard.

"I-I dunno." He started to silently sob, tears soaking the sheets. Both Jack and Specs hugged him, Jack running a hand through his dark hair. When he calmed down, Jack finished cleaning out all the cuts and bandaged everything as best he could.

"Alright kiddo. Ya think you can get some sleep now?" he asked.

"Will you—will you stay here?" His voice cracked.

"Of course I will." Jack cradled the boy in his arms, and Romeo fell asleep instantly. "How's Race?" Specs shook his head.

"Door's still locked."

"Alright. First thing tomorrow, we need to find Spot."

* * *

**A/N: Hey y'all! I hope you enjoyed this and I'll hopefully post more soon. Those plot bunnies are conspiring against me I swear….**

**Never fear, I'll keep working on my other fics as well. However, I hope you enjoyed my first Newsies fic and please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is encouraged!**

**Also, the Broadway recording of Newsies and Panic! At the Disco was all I listened to while writing… Miss Jackson rocks y'all. And so does This is Gospel. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**TW: referenced self harm**

The next morning, Specs was up before sunrise to go find Spot. As he raced out the door, he almost ran into Crutchie.

"Hey Specs. What'cha doin?" he asked, cheerful as ever.

"I gotta find Spot, Jack can fill you in," Specs told him before running out the door.

"O-Okay. Bye Specs!" Crutchie called. However, Specs was long gone.

* * *

By the time Specs got to Brooklyn, he was breathing harder than he thought possible and clutching a cramp in his side as he pounded on the door of the Brooklyn newsie lodgings. A very grumpy Spot answered the door.

"What'cha doin' here, uh…"

"Specs… sir."

"Specs." Spot grumbled. "It's only seven in the morning."

"Um, it's Racetrack. He just came back from—from the Refuge." Spot's expression immediately shifted to one of—concern? as he disappeared back into the building for a few moments, reappearing with a first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol. Specs led the way as they ran through the crowded street and finally made it to the Manhattan lodge. They burst through the door, Specs collapsing onto his bed.

"Spot, thanks for coming. Romeo came down with a fever and Race still won't leave the bathroom. The door is locked and he has the key," Jack said.

"What did you do for Romeo?" Spot asked.

"We cleaned the dirt out of his wounds and bandaged them, but I don't think the water disinfected them enough, since we can't get into the bathroom.

"'Kay. Clean them again with this," he said, tossing them the bottle of alcohol, "and I'll see what I can do for Race." He walked towards the bathroom door, first aid kit in hand, and knocked.

"I's fine, Jack," Race said, the door muffling his voice.

"Race. Open the door," Spot said, making his voice as commanding as possible.

The lock clicked.

Spot carefully opened the door, making sure not to startle or hit Race. He didn't have to worry, however; Race was hiding in the corner next to the bathtub. Spot stepped in and closed the door, laying the first aid supplies on the counter.

"P-Please don't hurt me," Race whispered, his eyes closed.

"Race, it's Spot, I ain't gonna hurt you," Spot replied. "Can I come over there?" Race slowly looked up at Spot and nodded ever so slightly. Spot took that as his signal to slowly walk towards the other boy; he walked as quietly as possible without making any sudden movements. He gently put his hand on Race's shoulder, wincing when Race flinched. Race must have sensed his worry, as he whispered, "I's fine."

"No you're not," Spot replied. "Jack told me you've been in here since around eleven last night? And please don't lie."

Race nodded.

"That's what I thought. If that's the case, you need some medical attention. C'mere." He picked Race up, bridal style, and set him on the counter. For the first time, he realized how beaten up his friend was. Blood stained his shirt, too obvious to ignore even over the plaid pattern, and he had two black eyes. His arms were covered in—

"Oh sh—schuttas," he whispered. "Race?" Race followed his line of sight and winced.

"I's s-sorry," he breathed, looking like he was about to cry.

Tiny cuts ran up and down his forearms, some slowly oozing blood. Spot glanced around the bathroom and found a razor behind the trash can, then looked back at Race, who was staring at his hands.

"Racetrack." Race sat as still as possible, his chest barely moving as he breathed. "Anthony Alessandro Higgins."

"So you're pulling the full name card, huh," Race said, attempting sarcasm and barely choking back a sob. He still didn't look up.

"Race, I just wanna make sure you're okay," Spot said.

"Well, I's obviously not! Great job, Sherlock," Race nearly shouted.

"Race, please just let me help you! I don't want you to be in pain."

"But I don't deserve your help, Spot. I 'preciate that you care, but I's just a burden."

"You're not a burden! Don't ever say that." He started gently removing Race's vest and shirt, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Race feebly tried to swat his hands away, but Spot ignored it. When he pulled of Race's undershirt, the boy wouldn't meet his gaze.

"How are you still alive?" Spot asked incredulously.

"I shouldn't be."

"Race…"

"It's true!" Race said. "I's older and I's supposed to take care of Romeo, but I screwed up. I begged him to hurt me instead, I did! But he wouldn't listen, and Romeo got hurt. I was s'posed to protect him, and instead he protected me. I didn't deserve that. I—" he was cut off as Spot placed a hand in front of his mouth.

"Shh, you didn't do anything wrong, Race."

"But I—"

"No."

"Romeo—"

"Race, shh. It's fine, you didn't do anything wrong and Romeo getting hurt is not your fault."

"I failed him! He almost died because of me! Don't say it's not my fault." He started to sob, not protesting when Spot picked him up and cradled him like a baby.

"Race it isn't your fault. I'm assuming Romeo took the punishment for you because you couldn't take any more—stop right there. Since you're the oldest, you naturally want to protect all the littles, right?"

A nod.

"But even you get to a point where you can't take it. Romeo doesn't want you to get hurt, kid."

"I's no kid, Spot."

"Race, he couldn't stand to watch you get hurt. And Romeo's pretty smart, so if he thought you wouldn't be able to take it, he was most likely correct." Race slowly nodded.

"Now you need to hold still so I can clean you up, 'kay?"

"A-Alright."

* * *

**A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! It means a lot to me and I appreciate it. I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you are enjoying reading it as well. **

**Also, sorry this is kind of a short chapter, I figured y'all would want an update sooner? Plus I stink at long chapters. Expect another update sometime next week, as I'm gone this weekend. **


	3. Chapter 3

Spot had to admit that Race had an extremely high pain tolerance. He barely made any noise while Spot was cleaning the blood from his back and arms. However, even the strongest people are bound to break at one point or another.

"Do you hafta clean it with that?" he asked, referring to the alcohol Spot was holding.

"Race, I told you this already. It's gonna get infected if we don't use the alcohol, and that's gonna be worse than just cleanin' it now, alright?"

"I know, but…"

"What?"

"I-I's scared," he whispered. "But—"

"Shh, I understand, kid. It's gonna be okay, promise." Race nodded, attempting to put on a brave face and failing miserably.

"I's sorry, Spo—"

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, and bein' scared is perfectly normal. You're gonna be okay kid, you're tough."

"I's not a kid," Race protested.

"You're younger than I am."

"Only by a few months." Race crossed his arms across his chest, and Spot sighed.

"Fine. But we can debate this later, as you still have a bunch of cuts that need to be disinfected. Lemme see your arm."

"No."

"For all you's sayin' you're not a kid, you do act like one," Spot remarked wryly.

"Spot, I's—"

"You're _not_ fine!" Spot shouted. Race flinched. "Give me your arm. Now." Race meekly obeyed.

"Sorry," Race whispered.

"I'm sorry," Spot said. "I'm the one who yelled, I didn't mean to scare you, and you don't hafta apologize."

"You's fine," Race said. "Don't worry about it." He extended his arm again and braced himself for the sting of the alcohol. _Besides, it's what I deserve_, he told himself.

"No it's not!" Spot replied. Too late, Race realized that he had spoken that last sentence aloud.

"I-I didn't mean—"

"Racetrack, if you said it, you meant it, but we can discuss that later. Now calm down, it'll be over in a minute, 'kay?"

"Stop callin' me Racetrack."

"I'll call you sweetheart if you'll stay quiet for a bit so I can clean your cuts," Spot smirked.

"That's my line," Race muttered.

"Whatever happened to romance?"

Race cracked a small smile. "You win," he said. "Go ahead."

"You're gonna be okay, kid." He put a hand over Race's mouth as he opened his mouth to protest.

"Mmph." Race pouted. Spot put a splash of alcohol on a clean rag and turned Race's arm to see the cuts. Race weakly smiled, but grimaced as he felt the alcohol seep into the wounds. After a few agonizing minutes, Spot finished and wrapped bandages around Race's arm. Suddenly, there was a loud _thunk thunk thunk _on the door, and Crutchie stumbled in, stopping short when he saw an injured Race on the counter and Spot holding a bottle of alcohol.

"What the heck is goin' on here?" he asked without thinking. "Race, what happened?"

"I'd've assumed Jack told you," Spot said.

"Well, uh, he said Race an' Romeo got hurt and asked me to stay with Romeo, he's asleep right now, but I didn't know Race was this bad." He limped over to the other boy, taking in how beaten up he was. Race hid his arms behind his back, clearly not wanting Crutchie to see. Crutchie raised his eyebrows and gently took hold of Race's arms, silently surveying the cuts on his left arm and the bandages on his right.

"Why didn't'cha say somethin,' kid? I know you's got some bad anxiety, but I didn't—"

"Please don't worry 'bout me, Crutchie, 'm fi—" A warning look from Spot stopped him from finishing his sentence.

"You's not fine, kid. Imma stay with you two for a bit, if Spot's ok wit' that?"

Spot nodded. "Of course," he said quietly. Crutchie hopped onto the counter beside Race and took his right hand, reassuring the boy as Spot poured more alcohol on the rag and began disinfecting Race's left arm. The small room was silent for a few minutes until Crutchie spoke up again.

"You know you's allowed to cry, Race. We ain't gonna think less o' you." Race nodded, blinking furiously. He winced as the alcohol entered a particularly deep cut, and a single tear dripped down his face into his lap.

"I—" He burst into tears, burying his face in Crutchie's shoulder. "Keep g-going, S-S-Spot, I's o-okay…" he sobbed. _You oughta just finish as fast as possible_, Crutchie mouthed over Race's head. Spot nodded and continued cleaning the cuts on Race's arm, finishing within a couple minutes and bandaging it quickly.

"Race?" Spot asked. "Can you sit up some so I can finish please?"

"Yeah," Race whispered, tears still slowly falling down his face. Crutchie helped him sit up, and Spot began the painful process of cleaning the lashes on his back. Race was silent during the whole ordeal; however, tears streamed down his face and he made no effort to hide them. Instead, he rested his head on Crutchie's shoulder. It seemed to take hours. Finally, Spot finished and carefully pressed a clean towel to the cuts to dry them off. Race looked up.

"Are you done?" he asked. Spot sighed.

"Almost, kid," he replied. "We just have to finish cleaning your chest and then we're done, 'kay?" Race nodded reluctantly.

"Non merito il tuo aiuto," he mumbled. _I don't deserve your help. _

"Sai che capisco un po 'di italiano, sì?" Spot replied. "Odio vederti ferito, e quello che hai detto non è affatto vero." Crutchie's face was the definition of the word confusion. _You know I understand a bit of Italian, right? I hate seeing you hurt, and what you said isn't true at all._

"What did he say?" he asked.

"Nothing," Race said immediately.

"He thinks he doesn't deserve help," Spot answered. Crutchie hopped off the counter and turned around to face Race.

"What do ya mean, ya don' deserve help?" Crutchie asked angrily. Spot had never seen Crutchie this livid, and he noticed that the boy's accent thickened when he got mad. "You's our brother, an' fam'ly helps each other. Don' ever let me hear ya say that again, ya here me?" Race could only nod.

"S-S-Sorry, Crutchie," he whispered.

"Don' be sorry, jus' don' do it again," Crutchie replied. "But I's Sorry for yellin' at'cha. He climbed back onto the counter next to Race and leaned him back against his chest. Both Crutchie and Spot noticed how much Race was shaking. Race noticed them watching and made an effort to stop shaking. Spot opened his mouth to comment, but Race cut him off with a muttered "'m ok."

_He's too thin_, Crutchie thought, noticing for the first time how badly Race's ribs stuck out. He made a mental note to get some kind of stew or something for both Race and Romeo, who he knew was in a similar state.

"Can I have a rag or somethin' to bite down on?" Race asked. "I don't wanna wake up Romeo." Spot nodded, handing him a clean red bandana from his pocket. He put it in his mouth and settled back against Crutchie. Spot held up the rag.

"Ready?" he asked softly. Race nodded. As the rag made contact with Race's skin, he involuntarily cried out, the cloth muffling the noise. Crutchie wrapped his arms around the trembling boy, trying to calm him down. Spot blinked furiously, and an outside observer would've noticed his eyes shining with tears.

"Please just finish," Race whispered. Spot nodded and turned to pick up the rag when he had an idea.

"What if I just pour this on it?" he asked, gesturing to the alcohol. "It'll be faster for sure." Race considered the proposal for a moment, then nodded.

"Just make it fast." He bit down on the rag again and closed his eyes.

"Alright, on three," Spot said. Crutchie took Race's hand, sensing his breathing speed up.

"You's gonna be okay," he whispered just loud enough for Race to hear.

"One… two… three." Spot poured the alcohol over Race's wounds as fast as he could, looking away. Race cried out in pain, blacking out after a few seconds. After bandaging Race's torso with Crutchie's assistance, Spot picked him up and gently laid him down in bed, pulling up the covers, then ran out the door as fast as he could. He didn't want Crutchie to see the tears flowing down his face.

Meanwhile, Crutchie sat down to wait for the two boys to wake up. However, he didn't have to wait very long.

**A/N: I can't decide whether I want Spot and Race to be just friends or if I want them to be together here, so I suppose you can read it either way. I'm also very sorry that this update is weeks late, apparently I can't stick to a schedule. **_**Hopefully**_ **the next chapter will be up soon-ish but I don't want to promise anything. **

**Sorry for my dreadful Google Translate Italian y'all. **

**I also want to come up with a better title! Any suggestions? I've been looking through my music library because song titles and lyrics are where I get most titles XD**

**If you have an idea feel free to tell me in the comments, just include the proposed title and the song it's from. Thanks!**


End file.
